About eleven o’clock the strains of “God Save the King” were heard, and shortly afterwards the Royal Procession was formed, and wended its way through all the galleries, until it reached the room where supper was arranged. Young men in official uniform preceded the procession, to clear the way. Then followed the Prime Minister, with the Princess of Wales (now Queen Mary), who has the gift of acquiring greater dignity of manner as years roll on.
The Prince of Wales (now King George V.) came next, and, with that extraordinary genial gift of recognition, apparently inherited from his father, he stopped as he passed through the suite of rooms to shake hands with the people he knew.
All the Ministers and their wives, the Duke of Norfolk, and a host of other officials followed in his wake. It is the custom for the gentlemen to bow low and the ladies to curtsey as the procession passes.
By this time there was barely breathing room, for all the official diners had arrived, and most of the three thousand invitations issued found a representative in that gay throng. Supper over, the Royal Procession returned through the State Galleries, and, descending the staircase, went home shortly after midnight.
Well, well! to think how many people declare they “would not thank you for such a pretty sight; would rather sit at home with their book, or smoke at their club; anything rather than see a fashionable gathering, and be jostled by diplomats and peers.”
“OPENING OF PARLIAMENT.
An Impression of the Peers.
(By a Woman Commoner.)”
Thus my little article was headed in the front page of The Pall Mall Gazette, 1902.
“A little flutter of excitement passed through me as I opened a certain envelope one morning, and took out its contents. Just a little bit of cardboard, but oh, how precious! for it represented a seat at the opening of Parliament by His Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII. ‘Admittance 12 o’clock. Doors close 1.30. Day dress.’
“These were the orders, and, not wishing to miss anything, I started forth a little after noon, and drove to the Victoria Tower entrance. I had been there before, when the House was sitting, and knew those rows of five hundred pegs on which the noble lords hang their coats and hats, each peg being ornamented with its owner’s name. By the by, there is a curious rule that no peer standing on the floor of the Upper House, or moving from one side to another, may do so with his hat on; and if he rise from his comfortable red seat with his head covered, he must doff his hat, and not replace it until he is seated again. Such a strange formality is easily forgotten, so wise folk leave their hats downstairs.
“There is as great a charm about the interior of the House of Peers as there is in the building architecturally; the moss-green carpets and red-covered seats harmonise so well with the fine carvings and passable pictures. The Robing Room is hung with canvases of the Tudor period, and there are also some good carvings here, which made a fitting setting to the day’s proceedings. Never has there been such a demand for tickets as on this occasion, both by Members of the Commons to hear the King’s Speech, and Society generally to get into the Royal Gallery.